Bees?
by raindanceman
Summary: Something's wrong with Chase and House and Co. need to figure it out. Rated M for language.


The hostpill opens its doors. House Walks in. He's wearing an abnormally large Fanny Pack. It's neon yellow and features text that reads "PARTY," in black, bold text. The fanny pack moves slightly every once in a while, a bump here and there. Sometimes a slight buzz. Nobody minds it. Nobody cares. It's House. Cuddy gallops up to him with a great THIRST in her skirt.

"House what's in your fanny pack?" she asks in a whiney tone.

"Nun'ya" House muttesr under his extremely large shades and he adjusts his HARDCORE leather jacket. This causes Cuddy to have heart palpitations. Just before she falls to the floor, House spins around dramatically and grabs the manilla folder in her arms. Walking away, House clicks his teeth in her direction, swiping his greased hair with a pocket comb before doing a 180 and stumbling into a nearby column. House readjusts his jacket once again, swiping literally nothing off of his sleeve before striding towards the elevator.

The elevators doors open and reveal the Sax Man who accompanies everyone's short ride. House bounces and jigs along to this wonderful Jazzy Sazxy man, ignoring his trash leg. "YES, SAXY. YES!" he moans. The sax man stops when the door opens. House's sexual thrill of sax had ended and he had work to do. That sax was almost as good as watching monster truck rallies, House thought.

Entering his office, he saw Chase sitting in his chair. There were vinyl records and banana peels strewn all over the floor. Was Chase even conscious? Who knew? House didn't care. He threw the probably lifeless body out of his expensive wheely throne. The vicodin addict turned on his stereo, blasting every kind of J-Rock imaginable. Chase did not stir. Foreman stumbled into the room, not expecting the mess of banana peels and vinyl.

"House what the fuck are you doing," he slipped and fell flat on his face. Coffee spilled everywhere.

"I think Chase is dead!" House giggled and kicked the blond australian bod.

"NO! THAT CAN'T BE!" Cameron dramatically ran into the room. Her tears blobbed as if she was in a Studio Ghibli film. "I can't believe he's gone! I loved him so much! As a coworker! Because we definitely weren't fucking!" the girl mumbled between sobs.

House took a lighter and set his cane aflame. Ironically, it was the cane with flames painted on the end. He took his flaming stick and smacked Chase's LIFELESS body. He smacked it multiple times, just to make sure the corpse caught fire as well. Cameron refused to let her not-fuckbuddy's being go (her eyebrows were long gone.) Once the flames died down, Chase rose. He felt very hot and charred, but otherwise, he felt pretty good. The burned australian headed out the office door, slipping on banana peels every so often.

Meanwhile, House was busy raiding Wilson's office. His robot comrade was underground, feeding the weeaboo population. "Where are the prescriptions….." House pondered out loud. The smell of burning flesh touched House's stuffy nose. Chase was alive and he was Coming. Ducking behind Wilson's desk, he watched the hallway through the door window. The smell grew thicker and he saw a smokestack quickly float by. Wiping sweat beads from his forehead, House ran. He ran as fast as he could with his TRASH LEG.

When House reached his current patient, who he completely ignored until just now, the entire team was there. None of them seemed to notice his urgence. Chase was there, too, completely uncharred. The Australian looked at him funny though. He knew something. The phone in the room began to ring. House picked it up. It was David Krumholtz

"Am I still relevant?" the unemployed actor squeaked.

"Shut the fuck up David," House hung up the phone.

House turned towards the patient, ready to emotionally scar them. He was stopped, though, by the Australian. The silence was filled with murderous intent. Chase readied his vocals.

"House… whut'n the boomerang ah yoo wearin'?" he asked in a disbelieving, condescending tone.

Without a word, the neon yellow fanny pack with "PARTY" printed on it in BIG, BLACK text, started to vibrate rapidly. It was buzzing and moving. Chase stared.

House grabbed the fanny pack. He unzipped the biggest pocket.

Bees? flew out of the pocket. So many Bees? Hundreds, thousands of Bees?

The End


End file.
